


Dry

by goresque



Series: Taken In Hand [9]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Play, BDSM, Come Swallowing, Kinktober 2019, Other, Prostate Milking, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 11:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20873462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresque/pseuds/goresque
Summary: Sideswipe comes to Ratchet to explore a new kink he’s discovered.





	Dry

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so I’m attempting kinktober this year. I made my own prompt list and I will not be doing one a day, thats just a setup for disappointment. However, I’m going to be combining prompts and doing about 15 give or take. Maybe less.
> 
> Prompts: Prostate milking + swallowing
> 
> No beta we die like heroes

Ratchet considered the tools before him. Both the medical instruments and the obnoxious front liner. He kept his arms crossed, still critical. 

“No Sunstreaker?” he asked, unwilling to budge from his spot. Before him laid an array of interface aids, though one glance at every one of them told him that Sideswipe had no real idea what kind of tools were needed for this type of procedure. 

“No Sunny,” Sideswipe echoed with a nod. “He said he wasn’t interested. And you know he doesn’t like watching unless he’s gonna get some too.”

“It’s because you’re both greedy and impatient,” Ratchet huffed, reaching out and taking on it the vibrators. It was long and thin, with an egg shaped bulb at the end that curved outwards. “I’ll teach you both lessons about that later. But you’re sure you want to do this? It’s more advanced than what we’ve discussed before.”

“I trust you,” Sideswipe said, smile spreading across his faceplate. Those three words had Ratchet’s spark spinning faster than it had any right to. Then, Sideswipe made a move to stand. “Unless you think you’re not up to it.”

Ratchet, despite knowing a goad when he saw one, fell into it. “You sit down, mech. You’re in better servos than you think. Now, tell me your safeword.”

“Cadmium,” Sideswipe said, fidgeting where he sat on the berth. “I can say yellow to slow down, and if I forget my safeword I can always say red to stop.”

“That’s a good mech,” Ratchet hummed, wielding the vibrator like a weapon as he directed Sideswipe, “Now, on your knees- yip-ip-ip, on the  _ floor _ . There you are. Now lean forward on the berth. That’s it.” 

As Sideswipe squirmed into place Ratchet took the moment to admire the mech’s shapely aft, smirking as his charge waggled it at him. He gave it a gentle kick, snorting as Sideswipe yelped. Dramatic. 

Though Sideswipe was never one for obeying, he listened to Ratchet’s instructions well. Ratchet knelt behind him, servos resting on one hip as he examined what he had to work with. 

“Now,” he said, pulling lube from his subspace. “I have a feeling you’ve done some amount of research. Tell me what you know, and I’ll supplement it.”

“There’s a soft spot in my aft,” Sideswipe began, peering over his pauldron at Ratchet. He seemed as if he were trying to gauge the correctness of his answers. “And it presses up against my transfluid reservoir. If you massage it, it feels real good and I’ll empty my reservoirs.”

“A good amount to start with.” Ratchet rapped a knuckle on Sideswipe’s modesty panel. “Open.”

When Sideswipe didn’t immediately react, only shifted his hips some, Ratchet dug a digit into the sensitive seams between Sideswipe’s groin and hip. “I said,” another jab, “Open.”

“Yes, okay!” Sideswipe grunted out, his legs trembling from the pressure Ratchet exerted on him. His panel slid open with little resistance. 

Ratchet smacked his aft with an open palm. “Yes what?”

Silence met him, so he slapped Sideswipe once more.

“Yes, Sir!”

“That’s right. Now, because this is our first time doing this, nothing bratty. Save it for next time. If you can’t handle doing what I say, when I say it,  _ and _ without an attitude, then I can stand up and you can walk out that door. Understood?” Ratchet tapped his servo along Sideswipe’s hip, awaiting his response. The frontliner was squirming where he lay, as if debating. 

“Yes, Sir,” Sideswipe said, almost sullenly. 

That done, Ratchet spread lubricant onto his digits and went to work. 

“Alright. You have a good baseline. What you need to know is that the process doesn’t happen all at once. It’s gradual,” Ratchet expressed as he rubbed around the edges of Sideswipe’s rear port. “I’m going to start with my fingers, and then we’ll work up to the toy. Feel free to play with your spike while we do this- in fact, I encourage it.”

No sooner had he offered up the reprieve that Sideswipe’s spike pressurized from between his thighs, emerging from his spike housing with a glimmer of biolights. Smooth black fingers stroked along the head, a coy smile peeking over his pauldron. Never one to stay still, Sideswipe flexed his aft, squeezing down on the very tip of Ratchet’s digit and then relaxing again.

As he penetrated Sideswipe’s waste port, Ratchet took notice of the mech’s subtle reactions. Sideswipe, like his twin, often wouldn’t use his safeword if he was uncomfortable. It was Ratchet’s job to make sure he was still in the right headspace to continue. 

There were no signs of that now. As Ratchet wiggled a digit into his charge he took notice of how Sideswipe bit at his lower derma, but made no other indication he was experiencing any kind of discomfort. Satisfied, Ratchet worked his finger in and out of Sideswipe’s afthole.

“Feels weird,” Sideswipe mumbled, though his hips pushed back against Ratchet’s stimulations. He puffed out through his chest vents and shuttered his optics, derma parted slightly to let out little huffs of heated air. “Good though, I think…”

Ratchet said nothing, only working his finger deeper. He pumped in and out several times until he felt Sideswipe fully relax, and then pulled it out only to press in again- this time with two fingers. 

“Relax,” the doctor said, Sideswipe’s port tensing up around his two digits. “This is the fun part.”

“Sayin’ you haven’t been having fun, Ratch?” Sideswipe teased, only to groan as Ratchet curled his fingers down against the wall of his aft. He could almost feel it in his valve, the way Ratchet’s fingers stroked along his inner metal. Sideswipe barely noticed he was drooling. 

“Feel this?” Ratchet whispered, his fingers curling again. He moved just slightly, and Sideswipe saw stars. A wordless shout echoed in the berthroom, and Ratchet chuckled. “There it is. There’s that ‘soft spot’ you were talking about. It’s a specific node cluster that stimulates transfluid production. By doing  _ this,” _ Ratchet punctuated his glyphs with a hard rub, “You’ll be leaking in no time.”

Fluid was already gathering in Sideswipe’s untouched valve, his spike twitching in time with Ratchet’s strokes. He didn’t even notice when Ratchet pulled his fingers out to stretch him with a third. He did, however, notice the unusual amount of pre-fluid beading at the tip of his spike.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that slip,” Ratchet purred, applying circular motions to Sideswipe’s node cluster. “That’s  _ sir _ to you, brat.”

“Yes, Sir!” Sideswipe sang, howling in time with Ratchet’s motions. His hips arched back, spearing himself deeper on Ratchet’s fingers. In doing so he lost that delicious pressure on his soft spot. “Put it back,” he whined, “Please, I'll be good!”

“That was your own fault,” Ratchet huffed. He withdrew altogether, giving Sideswipe’s aft a smack when he whimpered from the loss. “I’m getting the vibrator now. And a little something else I think we’ll need.”

Sideswipe barely acknowledged him beyond a moan of despair that Ratchet had left him. He wiggled, fisting his spike with furious need as he waited for Ratchet to return with relief. 

“That’s a good mech,” Ratchet crooned into his ear, hand resting on Sideswipe’s hip. “Now you just keep touching your spike. Aim for this, because it’s about to get real messy. I’m going to milk you dry. Then, after we’re done, you’re going to drink whatever comes out of you.”

Sideswipe glanced under his bumper and between his thighs, to where Ratchet had placed an empty cube. His processor, foggy with need, struggled to comprehend why he would need to aim for the cube. The thought tree was struck down mercilessly as Ratchet teased his afthole with the vibrator, slick with lubricant. He relaxed and clenched in rhythm, allowing Ratchet to slide the vibrator inside him in just a few pushes. 

“Now just relax. Point your spike at the cube, and just let it happen. You’re going to start leaking transfluid. It’s normal.” Ratchet’s words were like a siren song in the vast ocean of Sideswipe’s tactile experiences, floating among the waves of lust. He did as he was told, propping himself up on his elbow and peering between his legs at his spike. The cube seemed so far away to him, resting beneath his pelvis on the floor. It became his focus, frame trembling as he stroked along his spike.

The transfluid came as a dribble at first, and Sideswipe did his best to get it all in the cube. He missed at first, and whimpered as he heard nothing but a disappointed hum behind him. His focus was narrowed down to nothing but the cube and Ratchet, who was grinding the vibrator against his soft spot. It wasn’t even on yet and he was a drooling mess.

“That’s a good mech,” Ratchet whispered, just as he twisted the knob at the end of the vibrator. It came to life with a delightful buzz, and Sideswipe shrieked.

The transfluid came faster then, trickling out in a firm stream. Sideswipe had no idea he even had so much transfluid in his reservoirs at one time. At that point Sideswipe was so deep he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he knew when the cube was half full, and his body finally convulsed in a processor shattering overload.

“You with me?” Ratchet’s voice was the first thing Sideswipe heard as he returned to consciousness.

Sideswipe grunted and tried to roll, only to slip off then berth entirely. His vision was foggy, his helm muddled, and all he could think about was the half full cube of transfluid on the floor. “‘M I a good mech?” he mumbled, swaying where he sat.

“Yes, you are, Sideswipe,” Ratchet hummed, rubbing Sideswipe’s pauldrons as he did so. He reached back for the cube and slowly brought it towards his charge. “You’re a very good mech. Now, I want you to do something for me.”

Sideswipe nodded, feeling rather numb. He knew what was coming next, and held out his servos to be handed the cube. Instead, Ratchet held it to his derma and tilted slowly, let it slide between Sideswipe’s parted lips.

The transfluid was bitter, and Sideswipe reminded himself to figure out some way to rectify that in the future. But like a good mech, he swallowed it all without complaint, heaving as Ratchet finally lowered the cube. He slumped forward, vents whining, into Ratchet’s waiting arms.

“That’s a good mech,” Ratchet cooed, “So good for me. You did so well.”

And hearing that, Sideswipe thought, made it all feel that much better.


End file.
